☆Blaze☽
Chapter 20:
“What do you want for Christmas?” Beatle asked, swinging our intertwined hands as we walked down the sidewalk.
“Christmas is tomorrow,” I said dryly, and raised an eyebrow at him. Though, it didn’t matter to me that he hadn’t bought me a gift because I had no idea what to get for him. I had a collection of things I picked up through the holidays, but I had a decent reason as to why each one was unsuitable.
“Your point?”
“It’s too late to be having this conversation.”
Instead of trying to argue with me he simply shrugged his shoulders and changed the topic. He didn’t look at me while he spoke, instead staring at the lightly snow covered ground and skidding his boot across it.
“My family has this Christmas party every year, and we do this Chinese gift exchange thing, I don’t know. Do you want to come?”
“When is it?”
“Tomorrow night, around six.” My family always celebrated Christmas on Christmas Eve, leaving only the gift opening for the next morning. It was less hectic, plus we had practically dissociated ourselves from anyone outside of our immediate family.
“Sounds good.” I nodded and he smiled at me. He dropped my hand when we stopped in front of my house- we had decided to go for a walk while it was snowing since there was supposed to be rain tonight that would wash all of it away.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?”
“You can come in, if you want.” I pointed towards the house and he briefly looked down at the time on his phone before shaking his head, which sent snowflakes flying from his dark hair.
“I need to get Robyn to her Christmas ballet recital.” The idea of Robyn doing ballet still seemed to foreign to me. The first time I saw her in her pink tutu I expected all the typical stereotypes of a young girl. But now that I had been with her enough times, I couldn’t understand how you could get a girl that couldn’t be forced into a dress to wear a tutu willingly. She really was something else.
“Okay, I guess I’ll see you later.” I tried not to let myself frown, but it was hard. I didn’t want him to leave; I never wanted him to leave. His hand fell under my jaw and he pressed his lips against mine. It wasn’t long or overly passionate; it was quick because it wasn’t a goodbye kiss, it was just a parting kiss.
He pulled back a centimeter and smiled at me, his green orbs meeting my own gaze. He whispered, “Bye.”
I let my hand trail from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers, keeping them there only a moment. I bit my lip to prevent my smile from taking over my face and bounded happily to my front door. He watched until I went inside and then he starting walking down the street, disappearing.
I took off my jacket and boots, looking around. The house seemed surprisingly empty. Since break had started it was safe to say I had been spending a lot more quality time with my family. Not that I didn’t like my family, they were just overbearing at times. Plus, I was trying my best not to notice Hayden sneaking Gemma up to the house the same way I had Beatle.
I looked past the doorway and saw Hayden sitting on the sofa with his headphones on, which nearly never happened. And it was then that I heard the thunderous yelling from the level above us and it all made sense.
“Hayden? What’s happening?” His eyes met mine and he took his headphones off, the fact he had heard me made me wonder if he was listening to music at all or just pretending to. He blew his bangs out of his face.
“World War III.”
“Figures. Has he left yet?”
This happened anytime we had a major meal we had to cook, even though we never had any guests over- except occasionally Ms. Keown, our eighty-year old neighbour who was always alone for the holidays. Mom was adamant about everything being perfect. This morning she had asked why I was listening to music when my bed wasn’t made. I hadn’t even got fully out of my bed and the ‘music’ was my alarm. Mom just goes kind of crazy during the holidays, and Dad was nearly always on the receiving end.
“No, but I give it like, two minutes tops.”
As if on cue, there was the pounding of footsteps down the wooden stairs and Mom screaming, “Don’t you dare leave!”
“I’ll be back when you’ve calmed down!” Dad looked furious, his face was red as he slid on his shoes and grabbed his jacket off the hook. He was out of there faster than I’d even seen him.
Mom bounded down the stairs shortly after, turning to Hayden and me.
“I am calm!” She yelled, but I think it was more to reassure herself than telling us.
She walked towards the kitchen mumbling as she went, “What an ass. I cook, I clean, I decorate, and he has the audacity.”
Once she was out of earshot I exchanged a look with Hayden and we both had to try to keep from laughing. Mom was explosive during the holidays.
“What did he do?” I asked, and Hayden rolled his eyes while moving his headphones down to sit around his neck.
“Cut a piece off the roast beef.”
“I’m surprised he’s not dead yet.”
I excused myself from the conversation with the fact I had no idea what the hell a Chinese Christmas exchange was and I needed Google’s help.
**
The next morning didn’t feel like Christmas, if not for the lack of snow than for the pungent smell of burnt toast throughout the house. I groggily pulled myself from bed and pulled the comforter off, wrapping it around me before daring to go downstairs.
I quietly descended the stairs to see Mom franticly moving around the kitchen. She had two black pieces of toast on a plate and something spilled down the front of her shirt. It looked like orange juice.
“Mom, are you okay?”
“No, I’m pissed off,” she cried out, dropping the plate on the counter and gripping it for support.
“What’s wrong?”
“Hayden’s gone again, must be the third time this week. He doesn’t even leave a freaking note he just disappears and it is Christmas.” Even I had to admit what Hayden did was pretty shitty, but I was willing to bet money if I called Whiskey and asked him to go to Gemma’s room you would find Hayden. That was not the type of thing to tell Mom though. He would be home soon; he most likely snuck out last night and just fell asleep.
“You know he’ll come back.” I touched her shoulder and she whipped around, her face turned down in anger and disappointment.
“He shouldn’t have left in the first place, but no one listens to me anymore.”
There was a moment of silence because I couldn’t comfort her and she looked on the point of explosion. For a moment it seemed like she was going to reach for another piece of bread from the bag, but at the last minute she drew her hand back and returned to me.
“It was okay before when Hayden wouldn’t come home, or when he was obviously high or when he failed a test. It was okay because I always had you, I knew I wasn’t a bad parent because you were the one thing I did right. But then you get suspended for selling drugs. Are you kidding me? And your father never came home last night and this family is just falling apart.”
I wanted to be upset that she was practically blaming me but I couldn’t because it was true. I didn’t know why Dad never came home and I didn’t know why she called him my father instead of Dad. But that was because I hadn’t been around much, and you can’t notice things when you’re not there.
“Mom, I-“
“Just go away, Elliot. I need some space.”
Merry Christmas everyone.
We never got around to opening presents. Hayden came in an hour after Mom’s outburst in the kitchen and talked to her. She didn’t yell at him, I didn’t think she had it left in her. I never noticed how worn she looked before now.
Dad didn’t come home till noon, and they avoided each other completely. I had no doubt that they would fix it by tomorrow and Mom’s conversation with me was an exaggeration, but maybe that was just innocent hope shining through.
Now, I was standing on Beatle’s porch with a gift in my arms for the Chinese Christmas exchange thing. I had to rummage the storage area for a while until I found something, but I thought it worked.
The door handle shook for a minute and then Beatle was standing in front of me, smiling.
“Hey,” he said softly and took the present from my grasp.
“Hi, sorry I’m a bit late. It’s just-“ I was glad Beatle cut me off because I had no reason for being late. I had driven around the block a few times trying to straighten my thoughts out.
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. Nothing has really happened yet anyways.”
As I stepped inside Beatle took my jacket from me and threw it with a pile of other jackets. Many other jackets. He didn’t say there would be this many people.
As we rounded the corner to the living room I found that there wasn’t enough seating for all the people there, so most of them were standing in doorframes or leaning against sofa arms.
I expected there to be a pause when everyone noticed me and thought, “who the hell is this kid?”, but there wasn’t. No one even seemed to notice me, which was perfect with me.
“You have a big family,” I whispered near his ear, but it was more of a shout because that was the only way to be heard over everyone.
“Honestly, I don’t know who half these people are. My moms invited a bunch of randoms.” I tried not to laugh at his cute expression as he gestured around the room, stopping particularly on a ginger girl who was obviously not related to him.
He took the present I had brought and walked it over to the tree before bending down and depositing it with the rest, and I shamelessly admired his ass.
When he returned he pulled me closer to the doorframe so I could see everyone but go mostly unnoticed.
“I’m going to take five seconds to tell you about everyone here,” he stated, scanning the room as he selected his first victim. He started with an older lady in the back corner with a mug in her hand, sipping at it gingerly. “That’s my grandmother. She will insist you call her Angie, and has about a million different words to describe each part of someone’s ass. She also enjoys telling disturbing stories. That mug has coffee in it; that coffee has vodka in it. For your own sanity, avoid her.”
“There,” he pointed in the direction of a middle aged man with grey hair and a bit too much weight around his middle, “is my mom’s ex, Stan. He’s cool. His daughter, Izzy, is the one standing near the fireplace giving everyone hungry eyes, so stay away from her.”
“Do you not trust me?” I asked jokingly, poking Beatle as he rolled his eyes.
“I never said that,” he said swiftly before carrying on his survey of the room. He crossed his arms, and I wondered if he would actually go through everyone because that may take another night.
“I don’t know who the ginger is, but she came with my cousin, David -the guy with the curly hair. He’s studying Literature at Harvard or some shit and I’m pretty sure he speaks in blank verse and prose. So, unless you’re into iambic pentameter, stay away from him too.”
“Is there anyone I can talk to?”
“Me,” he whispered as he teasingly kissed my nose and I laughed, pushing him away.
“And Stan?” I pulled the collar of his button up and pressed his lips against mine quickly before parting.
“And Stan. Maybe Emma -if she’s drunk enough, otherwise she’s boring.”
“Who’s Emma?”
I had barely finished my question when a woman appeared. She shared a striking resemblance to Christie, except her hair was long and flowed down in soft curls to her shoulders. She was wearing a red dress and pearls, as if this was the social event of the season. I suddenly felt underdressed and judged.
“Lennon, who is your lovely friend?” I almost laughed at hearing him being called Lennon. It was odd, but I liked it.
“This is my boyfriend, Elliot.” I smiled widely hearing him say it. Her red lips fell open and she raised an eyebrow for a moment.
“Oh!” She exclaimed, and then she smiled and tapped her green nails against the empty glass in her hand. “I think I’m going to get more wine.”
“That went okay, I guess.”
“Great thing about my family is that if they are homophobic, they aren’t here.” He grabbed his cup from the side table with a lamp and a mini Santa stuffed toy on it. I nodded and felt a hand on my shoulder.
I turned to see Jillian, smiling at us. “Honey, Christmas exchange in five minutes. Pick a number.” She held out a Santa hat and shook it a few times before offering it to Beatle. He reached in a pulled out a folded piece of paper. Jill offered it to me and I let my fingers skim across several pieces before catching one between my thumb and index finger.
“Good luck, boys.” She tapped Beatle’s cheek with her palm. He pushed her hand away and rolled his eyes, but she ignored it as she happily bounced away.
“I’ve never seen her so…”
“Merry? She likes Christmas.”
I unwrapped the paper and looked down at the number, it was a four. I laughed to myself and folded it back up.
“What number did you get?” I asked Beatle, and he showed it to me. A black ‘28’ written on the paper.
“How ‘bout you?” I bit my lip and laughed to myself, shaking my head. If I hadn’t researched the rules I probably would have thought low numbers were good.
“Four.” He reached his hand inside mine, and I was confused until he swiped my paper and replaced it with his in my palm.
“Here,” he whispered.
“What? No! Take your number back!”
“Too late!” He smiled and turned away from me, disappearing into the living room. I stood awkwardly hovering by the stairs. I saw Izzy approaching and quickly ducked into the bathroom.
When I was sure she had walked by (I could tell by the click of her high heels), I exited and when to the living room where everyone was congregating. The chairs were all taken and everyone was looking at Jill expectantly as she enthusiastically explained the rules of the game.
“So, the person with number one must take a gift from under the tree. Number two takes a gift from under the tree –does not unwrap it, and can either open it or steal the first person’s present and give them the one from under the tree. The third person can steal from the first or second and so on and so forth. I’m pretty sure after ten years y’all know how to play anyways. So, who’s number one?” She clapped her hands when she finished and everyone stood there dumbstruck for moment at the speed that she had described the game, but slowly David raised his hand. Jill beckoned him forward and he hovered around the tree for a while before picking out a nicely wrapped present. He tore the paper off to reveal a box of truffles with a Tim Hortons gift card taped to it. The game had officially commenced
**
“There wasn’t as much stealing as Google said there would be.” I pouted, but I was still ecstatic as I pressed my box of picture frames close to my chest. Beatle carried around an assortment of candies tied to a bear’s neck so tightly it was kind of sadistic.
“You Googled the game? You could have just asked me.” He put our gifts down on the stairs, unloading the bear’s neck of its weights. “Anyways, it was because all the presents were shit this year.”
“They weren’t shit!”
“You’re just saying that because you got last pick and you have a weird picture fetish.” Beatle snickered at me and I stuck my tongue out at him.
“I don’t! I just like pictures. Do you have an issue with that?”
“No, but I do have an issue with that.” I followed his line of sight to his grandmother, turning over a box in her hands and inspecting it with glee.
“Grandma…”
“Hello, Lennon! What do you think of my beer pong set? I was going to try it out tonight but your mother won’t let me.” She proudly displayed it to us and I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or be in complete shock.
“Grandma, I think-“
“Do you remember that time we went camping on that beach and I forgot a swimsuit?” I cringed at the statement; I didn’t have to remember that to know that it couldn’t have ended well. And I couldn’t help but wonder what the point was of her bringing it up.
“And you went out in your underwear? How could I forget that? It scared me for life.”
She waved her hand at him and laughed a little, “You kids always say that. Robyn always complains that I sleep naked and she sees my bum when I dash to the bathroom. But Dr. Oz said it was healthy!”
I coughed awkwardly, as if reminding everyone of my presence. Beatle turned to me, looking relieved I had broken the awkward moment. Beatle smiled and pushed me forward a bit. “Grandma, this is my boyfriend, Elliot.”
“You got a cute one, Lennon. I just want to put him in a box and lock him up in my closet. And maybe pinch his naidies every so often.”
Beatle’s face flushed and he shook his head. “We are walking away now, Grandma.”
“Go get me some coffee while you’re gone!”
Beatle steered us both out of the room, and despite how much I wanted to break down into laughter I forced myself to look at Beatle.
“Naidies?” I asked in confusion.
“It’s her word for ass, but a specific part of the butt, like the lower butt cheeks? I don’t know. Ignore her.” I shuddered and Beatle placed a hand on my shoulder and smiled lightly.
“I’m so grossed out right now. Your grandmother wants to touch my butt.”
“She want to touch everyone’s butt, don’t take it personally. I think it’s how she makes up all these ridiculous words.” Beatle walked past the kitchen and continued down the hall. I touched his shoulder with furrowed eyebrows and pointed behind us to the kitchen.
“Aren’t you getting her coffee?”
“Yup.” He went to walk again but stopped when he realized I wasn’t following him.
“In the dining room?”
“I need to get a mug,” he stated. I shrugged my shoulders and turned.
“I’ll start the coffee maker then.” Coffee makers had become my favourite invention since the break. I had convinced my mom into getting one for the family for Christmas after using Beatle’s so many times. It made these little noises while it brewed that sounded like mini gun fires.
“No!” He shouted suddenly, but covered it up –badly, might I add. “I mean, you need to help me pick a mug.”
“You’re weird.” I didn’t question him though, and followed him into the dining room.
“Oh, look! There’s mistletoe!” He beamed and pointed up at the door frame. I rolled my eyes and bit my lip.
“Smooth.”
He wound his arms around my waist, brining me closer to him. “I know. Now, kiss me?”
“Is that a question or a statement?” I bit back my smile, purposely trying to annoy him -another one of my favourite pass times. He looked so unbelievably attractive when he was frustrated.
“Why are you being so difficult? I’m trying to be all cute and romantic and-“
“‘Oh, look! There’s mistletoe’ is romantic?” He jerked my chin with his hand as I mocked him, pulling it up towards his mouth.
“Shut up and kiss me.”
And I did.
*A/N I hope you were all still feeling the xmas spirit nearly a week later xD Terribly sorry. Holy crap 7 pages that's new!
I know his grandma may seem far fetched but she is 100% accurately based on my counsin's grandmother. The word naidies and everything (no idea how to spell that but I'm pretty sure it's not a real word since I tried googling it in many different spellings so who gives a shit?)
ALSO YOU SHOULD READ THIS IS YOU LIKE MISKEY OR IF YOU DON'T BUT YOU ACTUALLY READ THIS FAR IN MY A/N
@Chennelle wrote an amazing Miskey one shot and I will put the link in the external link thing, it is honestly perfection and I feel like I'm going to have to up my game to top that when (if, but more when) I actually do write about them.